


Nerdy Girls Need Love, Too

by OriginalCeenote



Category: Archie Comics
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Secondary Characters, gamma girls rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Ethel Muggs was never made from the same mold as the other girls, and she never wanted to be. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nerdy Girls Need Love, Too

Author's Note: This is that fic where the author did that thing, known as bastardizing a Samantha Fox song title from the eighties. *ducks thrown tomatoes*

Maybe the rainbow leg warmers were overkill. Then again, she didn't care.

Ethel adjusted the shiny, purple satin ribbon anchoring her the little red, star-shaped beads to her high ponytail, hoping that the curly extensions would hold. She gave them an experimental tug, and they didn't budge. "Sweet," she murmured around a mouthful of bobby pins, adding one more just for good measure. "Go big, or go home." Ethel rummaged in her vanity cabinet and emerged with her makeup bag, adding it to the growing pile of accessories spreading across the marble. She raised her brows and applied a generous coat of sparkly green eyeshadow to her lids, accenting it with bright yellow. Ethel went full-tilt with the rest of her makeup and added on a few stick-on rhinestones over her cheekbones. She stepped back and appraised her appearance in the mirror, giving her skirt a little twirl.

"Wait'll they get a load of me," she quipped in an exaggerated growl. "Time to turn some heads." Particularly, she reminded herself, a certain tall, dark, and hungry brunet in a funny hat. Ethel trotted downstairs to the kitchen and gathered up her coat from the rack. Her mother finished plating the pan of brownies Ethel baked and wrapped them in tin foil. "Hold on, baby, turn around! I wanna see the full effect!" Ethel turned and grinned, then blushed. "Ah, you look so cute! Hold on!" Her mother reached for her digital camera while Ethel vamped and struck a silly pose. "I have to send a picture to your aunt Gert. She'll love it."

"I've gotta go!" Ethel shrugged into her coat and buttoned it up for the ride over to Veronica's, knowing it would be a chilly night. She gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek and took the plate and her purse.

"Got your phone?"

"Already charged it."

"Here's some money in case you decide to pick up anything else from the store to bring over." She tucked a ten-dollar bill into Ethel's palm.

"I think it'll be fine, Mom. Ron goes all out. I don't even think she needs these," Ethel told her frankly, nodding at the plate of brownies.

"It was still nice of you to bring some along." Ethel blushed.

"Aw, Mom! I've gotta go!" She gave her another brief kiss and hurried out the door. Her overnight bag was already packed in the back her tiny Volkswagen. She keyed the ignition and plugged her Bluetooth into her phone, turning on her Foo Fighters station and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. Ethel left her middle class neighborhood and made her way to the plush Lodge estate, catching her shiny reflection in the rear view every time she went through the stoplight, watching as the red and green glow thrown across her skin warred with her glittery makeup. She felt bubbles of anticipation in her stomach at the thought of Juggie's reaction, and she said a silent prayer over the brownies, hoping her latest way-to-his-heart-is-through-his-stomach attempt bore fruit. Twelve years of school spent longing for him, chasing him across the playground, and mooning over him from a distance -well, not really, sometimes at his locker, so she could get a whiff of his aftershave - had to pay off, right?

Well, right?

Ethel pulled into the circular driveway, where two valets hurried to direct her where to park, mindful of the number of cars. Ethel could tell at a glance that the house was going to be packed to the rafters. She set the parking brake and shivered at the cool night air as she headed for the back entrance by the pool. As she approached the gate, a tall, slender boy she recognized from shop class swung it open from the inside. Ethel grinned at Fangs, who grinned back easily.

"Nice war paint," he quipped. "My kid sister would approve."

"Isn't she five?" Ethel asked dryly. He shrugged.

"Does it matter?"

"Oh, how you flatter me, Smiley."

"What kind of get-up do you have on under there?" He raised a brow at her heavy coat.

"You'll see soon enough." She scanned the area around the pool, which was shrouded in a mist of dry ice coolers surrounding it. The party was in full swing, and Ethel's nervous bubble was back as she searched for her friends. "I'm gonna go set this down." She motioned to the plate.

"Are those brownies?" He sounded hopeful. She sighed, peeking back the foil's edge.

"One," she pronounced with finality. Fangs dug in eagerly, selecting a corner piece that crumbled when he bit into it. He made an obscene sound of delight as he chewed, making Ethel giggle and wrinkle her nose. 

"Wow," he said around a mouthful.

"You approve?" She was impatient to see Juggie's reaction to the goodies and to get his attention. Fangs nodded enthusiastically.

"Wow," he repeated. He licked his fingers as he demolished it. "You rock. They're fantastic." She beamed, then blushed. "Glad I got one before they're gone. Jug's inside, setting up the speakers." 

"Oh. Uh, cool. Thanks. Um, bye."

"Later," he offered, giving her a cavalier wave as she darted off. Fangs sighed as he watched the flash of her long, slim legs encased in the garish leg warmers. That girl, he marveled to himself, was something else. He felt a little guilty for calling her out on her crush, but her intentions were written all over her face, and who was he to get in the way of them?

Just the guy who'd been carrying a torch for her since junior high, he reasoned miserably. Jughead was a clueless, lucky bastard. He licked the last, sweet crumbs from his thumb and wandered toward the pool.

Betty found Ethel first, blue eyes lighting up as she spied her friend. "Ethel! It's about time! I was about to text you!"

"I had to take these out of the oven," she explained. "You look cute!" Betty was decked out in neon and lace, sporting an eighties-style headband with a big flower that held her crimped, blown-out waves back from her face. She had rubber bracelets and bangles laddered up her wrists, with her lacy fingerless gloves showing through. "Nice attention to detail." Betty grinned as she smoothed down her short black tube skirt.

"I try. I found half this stuff at the thrift store."

"Me, too!"

"Want to set these out here?" Betty nodded to the brownies, "or are they not meant for general consumption?"

"Uhhh..."

"We'll put them in the kitchen. And we'll hang up your coat! I wanna see your costume!"

"Girl, it's about time you showed up," Nancy nagged as she caught them. She wrapped a companionable arm around Ethel's shoulders. "Juggie's over there, setting up his drum kit. Nice leg warmers!" Was she that transparent? She spared the pretty mocha-skinned girl a glance and felt jealous of how well she pulled off her Janet Jackson-inspired black suit and huge hoop earrings. Nancy hugged her briefly and muttered, "Go get him." Ethel escaped, cheeks flaming the whole way. She caught sight of her target and music and alarms filled her head. Jughead knelt in a crouch behind his kick drum, running speaker wires alongside the kit and securing them against the pavement with duct tape to keep people from tripping over them. Ethel toyed with the idea of going to him and offering him a treat, but he looked busy, and there were too many people circulating around. Ethel needed time to come up with a game plan. 

"I'm gonna put away my coat," she told her. "Back in a minute."

"C'mon, already, woman, they're about to start the first set!" Ethel hurried inside, eyes still glued to her crush as he readied his drums. The kitchen was crowded, too, with people she saw everyday, and with some she didn't. She recognized Jughead's younger cousin, Souphead, who was just a freshman. He was studiously pouring himself a tall glass of root beer and relieving Veronica of a bowl of guacamole.

"Are those brownies?" His brown eyes lit up, but she deflected him.

"Nope. You didn't see anything."

"Awwww!"

Ethel opened the fridge and moved a few containers around on the shelves, making space for the plate. “This is off-limits.”

“I’m family. My cousin wouldn’t deny me nourishment,” Souphead claimed. “Do you want me to tell him how cruel and inhuman you’ve been, holding such sweet, chocolatey goodness beyond reach? It’s neglect! It’s child abuse!”

“It’s hogwash. And you know your cousin doesn’t share food,” Ethel challenged, giving him a pointed look.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?” he told her, changing tactics.

“Nice try, buddy. Hands off the goods.”

“Now you sound like Midge,” Moose rumbled from behind her. He was guzzling a two-liter bottle of Coke like it was a sippy cup, wearing a “Frankie Says, Don’t Do It” tee and ripped-up stonewashed jeans.

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“It’s true, though,” he shrugged. He flicked her little star beads on her ponytail. “What planet are you supposed to be from?” Ethel rolled her eyes.

“Um, this one,” she told him haughtily. Ethel finally handed her coat to Smithers, who was just passing by, and she was suddenly the subject of round eyes and surprised intakes of breath.

“Whoa,” Moose murmured. “Wow. That’s… shiny.” Ethel planted her hand on her hip and gave him her best gesture of sass neck.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Soooo… She-Rah?” he attempted.

“No, no, no. Cool, granted, but no. Go back a little further.”

“Oh, my God. You’re Rainbow Brite!” That was Pepper, a transfer student from Midvale. She shook her head in wonder, grinning. “I loved her when I was a kid!”

“Rainbow Brite?” Moose made a noise of disgust. “That show was lame!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Ethel hissed. Pepper flipped him the bird.

“Don’t listen to him, you did an awesome job.” Pepper herself sported horn-rimmed glasses and wore a Princess Leia wig whose coiled buns rested over her ears. She had on the old school white gown with long sleeves and a child’s toy blaster hanging from a low-slung belt. Ethel wanted to point out that she went a decade too far back than Veronica stated on her invitations, since it was an eighties-themed party, but there was no point in raining on her parade. Ethel gave her a fist bump and nodded.

“Thank you, nice lady.”

“Outtasight!” she quipped. “Mel!” Pepper called out. “C’mere. Check out Ethel!” Ethel cringed at the blonde bombshell that approached, suddenly feeling like a homely string bean in comparison, but Melody gave her a dazzling smile and shrieked in delight.

“Omigod! RAINBOW BRITE!!!!”

“Okay,” Ethel muttered, ears ringing. “Pretty much…”

“That’s adorable! You’re so CUTE! Let me get a selfie!” Melody insinuated herself up against her, whipping out her phone, and she snapped a picture of the two of them, even though Ethel had only met her. Ethel suddenly felt like a Disneyland attraction. "Cool!" Melody crowed before darting off, admiring the little photo of herself with a very startled-looking Ethel.

“Melody’s what we call ‘outgoing,’” Pepper explained to her once Melody pranced off.

“And… shrill,” Ethel added.

“Yeah. But lovable.”

“I get that.” They were interrupted from any further conversation by Veronica’s entrance into the kitchen. As usual, she went all out. Her maid, Fifi, curled and feathered her long black hair into Farrah-like waves, and she wore a cropped buttondown shirt that was knotted below her breasts, baring her toned midriff. Lithe legs were revealed by the ridiculously short denim cutoffs and smooth, sheer hose. She wore a pair of Dr. Scholl’s clogs on her feet and looked every inch like Daisy Duke. Ethel envied her look, and the fact that her parents were out for the night.

“Oh, wow,” she hedged, looking Ethel up and down. “So… that’s what you came up with. Wow.”

“Rainbow Brite,” Ethel explained impatiently, giving the hem of her red satin skirt a twitch.

“I see that. Wow. It’s just so… wow.”

“I know, right?” Pepper chimed in. “Isn’t it great!?!”

“Um…” Veronica’s eyes looked uncertain and slightly glazed over. Ethel’s joy withered slightly under her regard.

“You said eighties. Favorite eighties character,” Ethel reminded her quietly.

“Yes. I did, didn’t I?”

“Right. I’ll just… go out there,” Ethel decided, needing to remove herself from the awkwardness. She cursed herself for not planning things out more carefully.

Of course Veronica wouldn’t be impressed. Veronica was Veronica. Ethel’s eyes swam as she looked around the pool and gradually noticed more people staring back at her. Look at them all, she mused. Everyone was dressed as eighties celebrities. She took a different tack, much like Pepper did, and she didn’t see anything wrong with it. Ethel loved kitsch, science fiction, fantasy, cartoons, anime, comics, and all kinds of pursuits that some of her peers just weren’t into; at least not the female ones, she corrected herself. The poolside patio was full of Madonnas, obviously, a few Chers, and a few girls who decided to be the Go-Gos together. She noticed Archie and Chuck rocking old blazers with tee shirts, going the easy route as Crockett and Tubbs. She caught a few people snickering and pointing at her, nodding at her leg warmers and red Converse sneakers, but she held her ground and looked for her friends. Betty and Nancy looked up from a conversation with Cricket and Penny and grinned, giving her the thumbs-up.

“That. Is. AWESOME.” Betty toyed with her hair stars and skirt. “I love it. That’s genius.”

“How long did it take you to make that?”

“I cobbled it together, just chopped and changed a few things from a couple of old costumes I got at the thrift shop,” Ethel explained, still feeling slightly chafed, but her friends, her true ones, were her shelter. “I just wanted something different.”

“And that’s why we love Ethel,” Nancy said. “Hello? Everyone else here saw the invite and said ‘let me get out my lace gloves and ankle boots,’ but Ethel said ‘Naw, girlfriend, let me come hard up in here with my rainbows and space boots!’” She elbowed her, and Ethel grinned reluctantly. “You’ve gotta be you.”

“Why not?” Betty agreed. “It’s fun.”

“It was supposed to be,” Ethel muttered.

“What?” Betty replied.

“Nothing. No biggie.” Her eyes wandered and found Jughead again, this time fiddling with his drumsticks, flipping them up in the air and twirling them through his long fingers. His only concession to Veronica’s dress code was a black Pac-Man tee showing from under his yellow hoodie. She felt slightly disappointed, almost hoping he’d go full-tilt in something more showy. Jughead’s costumes at some of Veronica’s other parties ranged from sublime to just plain crazy. Ethel remembered she’d been the only one last Halloween that recognized him as the Doctor when he showed up in his coat, suit and scarf, omitting his usual beanie for carefully gelled hair.

He still looked good enough to eat, with his slick black hair and fair skin illuminated by the spooky lights and dry ice mist. Skull-shaped lights dangled around the patio, and scary eyes peered out from the shrubs. Fake cobwebs were strewn around the edges of the doorways and over the gazebo, and she heard a motion-detector ghoul chattering and shrieking every time anyone walked too close. Ethel sighed.

“Go talk to him,” Betty told her. “Before the set starts. You’ve got five minutes.” Betty shook her tambourine at her, chiding her. “Go.”

“Okay.” Ethel steeled herself and headed for him, unsure of what to even say. She caught him just as he was taking his earbuds out and looping them inside his shirt collar. “Um… hi, Juggie.”

“Whoa,” he told her, eyebrows flying into his hairline. “Wow. That’s… shiny.”

“A little,” she agreed hopefully. “I like your shirt.”

“I loaded a life savings of quarters into that game back in the day,” he admitted. “So… wow. That’s some costume.”

“Thanks,” she told him automatically, before she realized it wasn’t really a compliment, but she eagerly latched on to the chance to keep him engaged. “Made it myself.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. Spent a lot of time on it.” Only for him to ignore it. “So, you’re going on in a minute, but I made you some brownies, um, if you’re interested.” That caught his attention.

“Brownies? You made them?”

“Uh-huh.” Her smile was bright, but he immediately side-stepped her, beelining for the house. “In the fridge,” she called after him, but he was off like a shot. “Help yourself,” she murmured to no one in particular.

She followed him at a sedate pace, noticing that people were still staring at her. Ethel wove through the growing crowd of faces and limbs, grateful that she was so skinny as she edged her way back into the kitchen. She caught sight of Jughead, who had found the brownies. The tin foil was balled up and thrown aside, and Souphead hovered behind him, reaching around his arm for one and cramming it eagerly into his mouth.

“God, that’s good,” Souphead mumbled happily.

“She’s done it again,” Jug agreed as he snarfed one down. “There any milk, Ron?”

“Whole new carton,” she told him in annoyance, cringing at the sight of the two gluttons. “At least get a napkin, you philistines.”

“Don’t need one.” Ethel knew there wouldn’t even be crumbs left over, something that stroked her ego as a cook, but still deflated her, slightly. The sweets caught his attention, but he was still ignoring her.

“I know you liked the cream cheese ones, the last time I brought them to the bake sale-“

“Are there anymore?”

“Um… no. Sorry. Just those.” Jughead busied himself piling his hand with brownies, managing to take six of them and cramming them into his hoodie pocket.

“I’m taking these for later. You rock, Bee.” She flushed scarlet at the hated nickname.

“Ethel,” she corrected him.

“Nobody makes brownies like Big Ethel,” Souphead cheered as he stole another one, and Veronica swatted him as he took a swig of milk out of the carton. Ethel jerked as though he’d slapped her.

“Gee, Ethel, you shouldn’t have,” Veronica sighed heavily. “There’s plenty of food outside, Jug.”

“I know,” he humbled around the brownie he had hanging out of his mouth as he filled his second pocket. Veronica gave Ethel a sour look, and she winced. Sorry, Ethel mouthed. Veronica shrugged and patted her arm briefly in sympathy, still clueless as to what her friend saw in the gangly, uncouth drummer, but she let it go. Before Veronica could say anything, the doorbell rang. She followed Smithers toward the front door, wondering who was arriving so late. He turned on the lights in the large foyer and unlatched the door. Ethel heard several high-pitched giggles and gossiping voices, recognizing the Pembroke girls at once.

All the fun automatically left the room. Ethel shrank back behind Veronica as she greeted the gate crashers in their midst, arms folded beneath her breasts.

“Miss Blossom and company,” Smithers announced stiffly. Ethel saw a gleam in his eye, as if he was trying not to laugh. Ethel realized why as she caught first sight of Cheryl.

Feathered hair. Plaid midriff shirt. Scandalous, short cutoffs. Clogs. Dangly, feather earrings. Hoo, boy… the fur was about to fly.

“So, your real costume is still in your car, right?” Veronica assumed, eyes cold as they flitted over her like claws.

“You call that a costume?” Cheryl sniffed back.

“No one said you had to come.”

“You invited Jason,” Cheryl reminded her. “It’d be pretty petty for only one of us to get to come, wouldn’t it?”

“Petty?” Veronica’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“So, are we doing this out at the pool?” Lacey interrupted brightly, shoving past Cheryl. “Ooh, my mom has that vase!”

“This way, ladies,” Smithers directed, nodding for them everyone to follow him, knowing it was up to Veronica to decide who to filter from her guest list. Veronica and Cheryl were staring each other down in a battle of wills and estrogen. Lacey and her two Pembroke classmates followed him in a cloud of Curve and Aqua Net hairspray, shrink-wrapped in Jane Fonda leotards. They joined Jason out back, where he was engaged in a trash talking battle with Reggie and Archie about who really won the homecoming game,

“Go change,” Veronica ordered.

“Your closet’s upstairs,” Cheryl sneered. “You go change.”

“This is my house.”

“Good for you.”

“Um, Ronnie, everything’s all set up. That sounds like a sound check out there,” Ethel reminded her as she heard Reggie playing a few experimental chords on his bass guitar. “Better get out there.”

“You heard her. You can make your way out,” Veronica sniffed.

“Um, no. I’m my brother’s ride home. My dad dropped him off.”

“Then he can text you.”

“Ron,” Ethel hissed. “C’mon. Let’s not do this. People will talk.” She nodded back toward a few onlookers that lingered in the hall, straggling into the living room to watch the drama unfold. Veronica’s nostrils flared, and she let out a gusty breath of resignation.

“Bitch. Whatever. I don’t care, I’ll kick you and your brother both out.”

“But you’ll let ‘Romper Room’ here walk around like that?” Cheryl tsked as she passed Ethel and headed for the back. “How old are you, five? Where are the rest of the Care Bears?” Ethel froze, stunned.

“Wow,” she muttered under her breath. Hadn’t she just made a gesture of good will? But Veronica had already headed back to her party to start the set and warm up her keyboard. Ethel flicked off the foyer lights as she headed back toward the poolside, but her eyes stung.

The gloss of the evening wore off, and Ethel considered her option as she looked around the patio. Betty was practicing a few rolls of her tambourine while Veronica played a few chords of their first song. Archie plugged his guitar into the nearby amp and tried a riff, peeling his fingertip down the string in a long gliss. Ethel felt the noise and clamor around her fading down to a dull roar, and suddenly, she was lonely.

She’d never truly fit, no matter how hard she tried.

Ethel knew she’d never be the popular girl, or the pretty girl, or the brassy girl who got all the attention. It wasn’t written in the cards. It was difficult, sometimes, coming out to parties like this one, flying solo and spending most of it just… drifting. She wasn’t shy about talking to people or mingling, but she liked different things. Ethel didn’t always want to join in on Justin Bieber-bashing or express indignance on other girl’s Instagram selfies or what they were saying on Snapchat. Sometimes she just wanted to hang out in a cozy corner and wax enthusiastic about Marvel movie release dates or gush about her anime convention cosplay plans. She wanted to have someone to brag about her stellar PSAT scores or her summer bridge program at Boston University.

Her mother coached her for years to become involved and “join in” at school. Ethel insinuated herself into various clubs, dance classes, chess club, cheerleader tryouts – that yielded disastrous results and ridicule, thank you very much – the track team, the field hockey team, booster club, you name it. But she never really found her “crowd” as far as nailing down a group of friends who shared her interests. She drifted on the fringe, hovering just on the edge of the cool kids’ table and waiting to set down her tray.

What she craved more than anything else was a “plus one.” She felt her throat tighten as she watched Moose cradling Midge in his arms, nibbling on her ear. She wore a Joan Jett-style get-up with ripped up jeans and safety pins everywhere, and she’d spiked and teased her short black hair and gone to town on the dark eye makeup. Nancy was similarly ensconced with Chuck on one of the pool chairs. Ethel watched them, feeling out of place and lonely. She sighed and looked around for Jughead.

He polished off the last brownie and clacked his drumsticks together for four staccato beats, signaling the band that their first number was about to begin. Archie grinned and chopped out the first chords of “Stray Cat Strut” as the crowd began to close in on them, bobbing their heads. Ethel caught a familiar chestnut mop of curls on the periphery, spying Trula holding up her smartphone and aiming at Jughead, and jealously lanced through her heart.

She wore perfectly safe Calvin Klein jeans and a Super Mario Bros tee shirt. Ethel wanted to just die.

*

 

Fangs hung out in the crowd, stealing glances at her and wondering why she looked so glum. Ethel hovered by one of Veronica’s outdoor space heaters, warming herself. A low breeze ruffled her hair and made her earrings and tiny star beads sway and dance, ruffling the short satin skirt. She hugged herself, and he decided to take a chance. If not then, then when? He crumpled up his red plastic cup and chucked it into one of the Glad-bag lined barrels and wandered toward her. Her gray eyes were pinned to the band as they played, to the drum kit in particular, a fact that wasn’t lost on him.

“You cold?” he asked politely.

“Huh?”

“You’re hanging pretty close to the heater. You came in with a coat,” he pointed out, but she nodded without really facing him.

“M’okay.”

“Want my sweater?”

“Doesn’t really go with my outfit. That’s okay,” she told him. “I’m fine, Smiley.”

“Wouldn’t clash too much,” he prodded. He playfully bumped his arm against hers. “Offer’s still open.”

“That’s fine.”

They stood together a while a few beats.

“Wanna… y’know?” he gestured toward the small clearing, where a few people were beginning to dance.

“Um… I don’t really… dance,” she finished.

“Really? Why not?”

Because no one ever asks me. “I dunno. I’m no good at it.”

“You can’t be that bad.”

“I’m good here,” she said, refusing him. Prickles of tension flared between them.

“You’re just kinda standing alone,” he pointed out.

“It wasn’t intentional,” she admitted. Ethel sighed, then finally looked up into his face. She wasn’t expecting his level, open gaze, or the soft smile on his lips. “What’s wrong with me?” she asked him.

“Nothing,” he answered simply, shrugging. He bumped against her again, and she bumped him back. Ethel shook her head.

“He’s oblivious.”

“He’s Jughead. And?”

“I know, I know…”

“Then you’ve gotta just remind yourself. Or I’ll remind you: He’s just Jug. He won’t change.”

“He doesn’t have to change,” Ethel said. “I just wouldn’t mind if he’d… I dunno.”

“What?”

“Notice me.” Fangs sighed, then shrugged.

“Everyone else did. That’s some get-up.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t take the next jump in thanking him.

“It’s nice on you.”

“Huh?”

“You look really cute, Ethel.” Her gray eyes darted away from him for a moment, then returned to his face, searching it.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He fingered the puffy blue sleeve. “It’s fun. You look like a lot of fun, Ethel.” She chuckled and shook her head, ducking her face. He reached for her hair ribbon, pushing it back when a breeze blew it into her face. His fingertips grazed her cheek, making her shiver. His light blue eyes devoured her, and Ethel licked her lips.

“Um… are you hungry? I think I could eat something.”

“You haven’t yet?”

“Uh-uh.” She was loathe to leave the heater, and he read her mind.

“Want a chicken wing? Anything special?”

“Whatever you think looks good,” she told him. “I trust your judgment.” He grinned and hurried off, then glanced back to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere.

Ethel’s eyes swung down to stare at her Chuck Taylors, at the shrubs, anywhere but at the tall, slim junior that was making her feel thoroughly confused, like she was spinning off her axis.

*

 

Time flew by faster than she expected. Ethel and Fangs huddled at a patio table, pulling it closer to one of the space heaters, where she sat huddled in his hoodie, which she’d changed her mind about earlier after he’d zipped it up.

“That’s Michelangelo,” she accused, pointing at the masked eyeballs on the hood when he pulled it up.

“Well, yeah,” he huffed. “He’s the cool one.”

“They’re all the cool one,” she corrected him. “I loved him, though! I didn’t even notice that’s what you had on.”

“Wanna try it on? You’ve gotta be cold?”

That sold her. They shared a plate of munchies and argued “who played it best?” while the Archies played their second set. She’d given up on watching Juggie when Trula closed in on him, plying him with chicken wings and some of the butter cookies that were shaped to look like bloody fingers.

“Brandon Routh. Worst Superman.”

“Agreed.” She plowed a celery stick through a puddle of ranch dip. “Worst Bryan Singer movie, too.”

“I’ll accept that.”

“I still like his X movies better than Ratner’s.”

“I’ve gotta fight you on that one, E,” Fangs told her frankly, holding up his hands. “I liked Ratner’s X3. It just moved along faster than the other two. They were too bland.”

“But the storytelling just wasn’t there!” she cried, looking appalled.

“There was a story,” he argued.

“Ratner just… he just tied together a few bits and pieces of decent comics and made all of them suck!” He looked hurt.

“Take it back.”

“X3 was a hot mess!”

“Blasphemy!”

“I stand by my opinion.” He gave him a mock ‘what’re YOU gonna do about it?’ look and folded her arms, throwing in a hint of neck sass. He held his chest as though she’d wounded him.

“Oh, my God. We can’t be friends anymore…”

“Drama queen.” Ethel smirked and threw a pretzel at him.

“Hey!”

“Wuss.”

“What’s up?” Nancy and Chuck loomed up, holding hands and smirking at the two of them. “This looks cozy.”

“Smiley’s trying to convince me that X3 was better than the other two.” Nancy gave her a pained look, but Chuck’s face lit up.

“Not better than First Class?” Ethel suddenly felt giddy.

“Pull up a chair!”

*  
Cheryl and Lacey looked up from a conversation about the recently leaked Fifty Shades trailer when they heard a raucous outburst of laughter coming from the patio tables. “What’s their deal?” she snorted, looking perturbed.

“No clue,” Lacey offered, shrugging. They noticed Ethel and Fangs holding court at the table by the heater, looking awfully chummy. A handful of their peers, no one that Cheryl usually bothered with, were hanging on Ethel’s every word, from the looks of it, and that piqued Cheryl no end. “Sounds lame, though.”

“Ya think?” She shook her head. “Still can’t believe that outfit, though. Some people don’t care what they look like leaving the house.”

“Like some people I know,” Veronica sang as she walked past, helping Smithers unwrap another tray of taquitoes.

“Bite me,” Cheryl snarled. She turned her attention back to Ethel, who was huddled next to that tall kid, Smiley something-or-other. Cheryl frowned. He was actually cute. What the heck was he doing with Big Ethel? It bore investigating. She ignored Lacey and headed for the table, too curious for anyone else’s benefit.

Ethel’s arm was linked through Fangs’, and he was smiling down at her, rapt. Cheryl watched them disbelievingly, wondering what universe she’d stumbled into that Ethel – tall, skinny, Ethel with her jacked-up teeth and nonexistent boobs – could possibly pull a hot guy like that. Why the heck hadn’t Cheryl noticed him before?

She couldn’t put two and two together that Fangs had transferred back to Riverdale halfway through high school, after her parents pulled her and her twin from Pembroke. She hadn’t grown up with the rest of the Riverdale oldtimers, so she didn’t remember Fangs, aka Edward Fogarty from elementary. He’d left school the portly, snaggle-toothed bully and come back thinner, kinder and more enlightened, reestablishing his friendship with Dilton, an unapologetic nerd of the sort that Cheryl generally ignored.

“So, what’s up?” she trilled as she approached, cutting through the chatter. Ethel’s face fell, and she closed up beside Fangs, sinking more deeply into the soft, baggy hoodie. Cheryl rolled her eyes briefly at the TMNT turtle design on the front panels, not surprised at all to see Ethel wearing it. Freak, she thought smugly. Beside her, Fangs looked up at her curiously, surprised to even see her there. Cheryl misinterpreted it as interest, ignoring the hand he had on Ethel’s arm. “How’s it hanging? What are you guys up to all the way over here?” She scanned the assembled group, tight-knit but casual. Nancy and Chuck were the only two that she identified automatically, and she watched nerdy little Dilton push his glasses up on his nose as he toyed with a deck of those lame gamer cards. A brunette who would have made her feel more intimidated if it wasn’t for the Leia get-up and horn rims stared at her reproachfully. Cheryl tsked at her, then turned her attention back to Fangs.

“Partying hearty,” Chuck told her. “Dilton’s about to cut the deck of Magic cards. You in?”

“Um. Ha, ha, ha. No.” Nancy smirked, shaking her head.

“No harm, no foul, if not,” she told the redhead easily. “I’m just tagging along. I have no clue.” Cheryl gave her a look that begged, Yet you want to be here?

“Um, who would want to? Those card games are so stupid,” she insisted. “I’m glad my brother never got into those.” She looked proud of this. Ethel shrugged.

“Might’ve made him cooler.”

“Excuse me?” Cheryl’s smug grin dropped.

“Might’ve been a nice departure from hearing him talk about his car. Or Pembroke’s football team. Or name-dropping the girls he’s dated,” Ethel pointed out, even though her pulse started racing again. “I’d give him props, though, if he ever decided to be a gamer.” Dilton smirked and nodded.

“Me, too. We’ll whip him into shape.” He winked at Ethel, who nodded.

“Um, hello? Don’t try to infect my brother with that nerd shit. Don’t even joke about that shit. It’s such a waste of time. Some of us have lives.”

“Some of us have daddy issues,” Chuck muttered. “Girl, grow up. The universe doesn’t revolve around you and your Jimmy Choos.” Cheryl’s face reddened.

“Cher, aren’t you getting a draft in that?” Nancy added dryly.

“Omigod. Omigod. You didn’t just… forget that. Forget you. Fuck you.” Cheryl threw up her hands. “Seriously?” Cheryl eyed Fangs squarely, annoyed when she noticed the amusement settling over his face. “That’s what you’re into?” He looked perfectly normal, Cheryl told herself in disbelief. Nice hair, great teeth, no acne, lean, buff… but those light blue eyes were laughing at her, at her expense. “So, you don’t play sports, or anything?”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Riverdale doesn’t have a fencing team.”

“Oh, thank God it doesn’t!” Ethel restrained a snicker, but she felt Fangs wince. She didn’t even know he liked fencing up until then. “Did you go out for football?”

“Not since junior high.” He didn’t add that he hated it. “I leave that to Chuck, here.”

“Whatever,” Cheryl muttered. “It’s getting boring over here.” She didn’t bother to tell them goodbye. Ethel sighed in relief.

“Just a little ray of sunshine, that one is.”

“She was a bitch,” Fangs marveled.

“You missed out freshman year when the twins came to school with us ‘townies,’” Ethel explained.

“No. I didn’t.” Fangs watched Cheryl rejoin her friends in their Flashdance-style costumes, braying shrilly over the nerdy clutch of outcasts she’d deserted. “Her brother. That’s Jason, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“He’s a tool. I can’t stand that guy.”

“He loves himself enough for the two of you. Not to worry.” Fangs smirked at her snark. They were leaning in to each other companionably, elbows propping them up at the patio table, and Ethel basked in his heat, how comfortable it felt to share a space with him.

“Wanna drink?”

“Root beer?”

“I’ll get ‘em.” He hurried to his feet and wove through the crowd toward the food tables. Nancy poked her, noticing how Ethel stared after him. Nancy nodded after him, letting her hoop earrings swing.

“See? There you go. That’s more like it.”

“Guys who fence. Listen to her,” Pepper agreed as Dilton dealt her in to the Magic round while she laid her toy blaster on the table.

*

Jughead headed back to the kitchen when his last set was over, searching the counter for the brownie plate. He noticed the empty dish dusted with a few loose crumbs and growled. “Not cool!” he groused aloud, holding up the plate.

“Snooze, ya lose,” Souphead grinned, then burped, knocking on his chest with his fist.

“You suck.” Jughead peered into the fridge, searching for something else sweet. “She make anything else?”

“Dunno,” his cousin shrugged. “Be nice if she had. I could go for another brownie. Or ten.” Then he laughed. “Dude, that costume was freaky!”

“It was before your time,” Jughead assured him. His mom had picked up an old VHS tape for his sister Jellybean of that cartoon, and she’d loved it immediately. “Old cartoon. She looked a little like Punky Brewster.”

“What’s a Punky Brewster?”

“Leave it alone.” Jughead rolled his eyes at his cousin’s glazed look. “I’m gonna see if she made anything else.” Jughead left the kitchen in search of a gaudy, shiny Ethel, wondering where his one-woman fan club had gotten off to. She wouldn’t be hard to spot, even in the crowd of his peers swathed in Don Johnson pink and NKOTB overalls. He had to hand it to her: Ethel was gutsy. It took nerve to show up decked out in that girly little suit, knowing what kind of attention it would attract. Jughead shook his head at her brass. She’d tried a little too hard, which was nothing new. The makeup, the hair, the leg warmers… all of it smacked of desperation to Jughead.

She gave him that puppy eye look of hers that always made him cringe. It was sweet. She was sweet, but… but. That was it. The “but” always stopped him. Ethel Lorraine Muggs just wasn’t his type. Most of the girls he hung out with at school weren’t either, if he had to be honest. The rare few, like Brigitte, Wendy, or Joanie were the ones who really spoke to him, who really got him, and they didn’t chase him or look at him with goo-goo eyes.

Then again, they didn’t bake like Ethel, either. “Where’d she go?” he mused.

“What’s up, Needle Nose?” Reggie demanded. “You look lost.”

“Where’s Bee?”

“Uh-oh! Jug’s looking for his woman! Time to get a room, you crazy kids?” Reggie straightened the belt on his Karate Kid costume and checked his reflection in a silver platter. He smirked at Jug and made lewd fist-hip-thrust gestures.

“Bite me.”

“Save that for Ethel, lover boy!” Jughead shuddered.

“Never mind,” a feminine whine told him. “She’s already taken. Wanna find her, just follow the trail of nerds.” Cheryl Blossom eyed him up and down. “She should still give you a chance, though. No accounting for taste.”

“Climb back into your Porsche and skedaddle, Miss Daddy Issues,” Jug suggested, giving her a little bye-bye wave. “Don’t get lost on your way back to Pembroke.” She’d piqued his curiosity, though. Trail of nerds?

“Fuck off!” Cheryl flipped him the bird, and her friends joined her in sneering after him. “Like he’s anybody.”

Jughead paused at the food table and settled on a sugar cookie finger thingie, munching on it as he continued to look for Ethel. He looked up at the sound of laughter and followed it to the patio tables. A small crowd of party goers in “edgy” costumes were whooping it up with a roleplay card game. He followed their chatter to the table closest to the space heater, and he saw Ethel in the middle of it all. “What the…?” Ethel was snuggled up against Fangs, wrapped up all cozy in his sweatshirt, and what really sent him reeling was that she appeared to be the life of the party. “What universe have I stumbled into?” he asked aloud.

“Bizarro World,” Veronica informed him, sighing. “But it was awesome. You missed Cheryl getting shot down by Smiley. For Ethel.”

“Ooh. Ouch.” He grinned. Veronica nodded wickedly.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome.”

“Try the muddy buddies,” Veronica suggested cheerfully. “There’s plenty.” Jughead diligently plunged his hand into the large red bowl of treats and munched away, still incredulous.

Ethel and Fangs. Who knew? He watched them, still disbelieving even when he saw the brunet playfully elbow Ethel, then lean over to peer down at her hand of cards while he toyed with her hair ribbons. Ethel was radiantly happy, an unfamiliar sight. For just a moment, he felt a pang of something like regret. A missed opportunity.

“Wow,” he muttered, cramming the chocolate-coated Chex bits into his mouth.

*

“You’re good with spells,” Ethel murmured from where they lingered at the back gate. Wisely, she’d gone back in for her coat, giving him back his hoodie when he’d kept huddling closer to her, not that she’d minded. Like, at all. She didn’t want his lips turning blue. They were such nice ones… They both leaned against the gate after the party had died down, or more accurately, after Smithers had thrown the majority of them out. Veronica and her core group of besties were already upstairs in her suite, getting out nail polish and face packs and issues of Marie Claire, and Ethel knew she should be up there, changing into her Wonder Woman flannel PJ’s, but Fangs’s eyes and teasing smile tempted her, holding her willing captive.

They watched the stars and listened to departing guests climbing into their cars in the distance. “This was fun. I had fun,” Ethel confessed.

“It was great.”

“So, um…”

“Have you got your phone?” Ethel nodded quickly, handing it to him after she punched in the passcode. He opened up the new contact screen and began typing. She frowned slightly over his shoulder.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah. I have a real name, y’know.”

“It’s been so long, I actually forgot.” They both snickered. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder as he keyed in his cell, email and landline. “Wow. You’re giving me the whole hook-up.”

“Reach out and touch someone,” he quipped. “Seriously. Don’t be shy about it.” He handed her back her little phone, which she tucked into her pocket, and when she met his gaze again, the look he gave her made her breath catch and her heart pound. Ethel prayed her hand wasn’t sweating has he grasped it, weaving their fingers together.

"I'm not that shy," she told him, completely embarrassed, but his fingers were soft and warm when he teased her beneath her chin, tipping her face up toward his, "really, I'm not, not most... of the..." Her voice trailed off, then shifted into a low, pleased whimper as he kissed her, a warm, sweet caress that rang every chime in her head. She was turning into jelly, and her hands fisted themselves in his sweatshirt to steady herself, prompting his hands to drift around her waist, coiling her snugly in his arms.

She came up for air reluctantly, dazed and delighted. "Wow."

"Yeah," he grinned. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. "Guess they're expecting you, huh."

"Maybe not right this minute." Ethel murmured, stroking the soft locks of hair curling at his nape as she pulled him down for one more kiss, just as slow, tender and thrilling as the first.

"Where's Ethel?" She heard Betty's voice sounding like it was coming from the kitchen. Fangs grinned at her and sighed.

"Spoke too soon."

"All right. Good night." After one last quick peck, he took the vision of her soft, shining gray eyes with him as he made his way out to his car. Ethel headed inside, chuckling as she watched Smithers practically give Jughead the bum's rush out the door.

"Think of it as me doing you a favor, Smithers, you know that no one's gonna eat that guacamole tomorrow..."

"Good NIGHT, Mr. Jones," the haughty butler pronounced as he shoved him out the front door. His drum kit had already been loaded up into Moose's pickup, and Soupy was already outside looking indignant.

"Can we at least take the rest of the Chex mix?"

"No." Without pity, Smithers locked them out, sighing in relief. His DVR'ed episodes of Top Chef and his bed were calling his name. Dreamily, Ethel climbed the spiral staircase and joined her friends, who squealed as soon as she entered Veronica's suite, demanding complete, juicy details. Within minutes her Rainbow Brite dress was hanging over Veronica's chair while she lounged in her Wonder Woman flannels and a mud pack while Betty took a turn painting her toes. Furtively, she texted him. Veronica tsked.

"It's too soon."

Thirty seconds later, the message "I had fun tonight, too" flashed across her screen.

"No, it's not," she said with a grin.

FIN.


End file.
